Not close enough
by Felidae1
Summary: It´s dark, sad and angsty: Emma´s life before the White Queen. Please R


After reading ´Murder at the Mansion´, I was furious.  
  
So I decided, to let Emma tell the story of her life herself, and look beyond, what Jean saw-  
  
or didn´t see, for that matter.   
  
Warning, R rating for disturbing matters and laguage.  
  
Disclaimer: Standard, all Marvel´s, although they obviously don´t know, what to do with it.  
  
Reviews: The more, the merrier, if I may say so...   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Not close enough  
  
*~  
  
Stupid.  
  
Superficial, sloppy, self-centred, stupid.  
  
And she is supposed to be Xavier's Golden Girl?  
  
Either, all those years of psy-training were not worth the effort, or Jean Grey has gotten too pleased with her powers.  
  
Or too dependant of them.  
  
*~  
  
'"That's not what I'm looking at. It's what's going on beneath all this."'  
  
She didn't see, did not look close enough.  
  
If she really had, she would have seen the burnmarks and bruises covering my mother's body, not only the painkillers.  
  
And why my brother decided to lock himself inside the proverbial nutshell.  
  
Yes, my father was a real son-of-a-bitch.  
  
The only way he could show affection, let alone love, was by money.  
  
And violence.  
  
He literally loved mother to death, and he killed her.  
  
He's a murderer.  
  
Never mind, if she did decide to end her life herself, by taking a few dozen too many sleeping pills.  
  
Jean didn't see that.  
  
*~  
  
I mean, how was my mother supposed to live with continued incest?  
  
Or why, do you think, Adrienne and Christian went insane?  
  
Christian's the second eldest, right after my sister.  
  
Guess what they got for their sixteenth birthday?  
  
A visit by Daddy, respectively Mommy, giving them their first..'treat' as adults.  
  
*~  
  
I'm four years younger than Adrienne, three years behind Cristian.  
  
Cordelia's the baby sister, two years younger than me.  
  
The scene in our living room, Jean delibaretly picked from my memory, was from sometime after my fourteenth birthday.  
  
Yes, I did have plastic surgery, but if Jean would have really looked closer, she would have seen, why.  
  
My nose was not always this crooked, actually, it had not healed straightly, after it had been broken.  
  
I got it, because I found out about the..special birthday presents, my parents handed out.  
  
*~  
  
I remember, I couldn't sleep, because it had been Adrienne's big day, and I, in   
  
the whole turmoil of festivities, had manged to steal a sip of wine.  
  
Which had made my stomach turn sour.  
  
But that was nothing compared to the assault of mental screams and images I got several moments later from my sister.  
  
I was only eleven, but I knew, what was happening to her.  
  
Until today, I can hear her breaking voice, shrieking pleas for mercy, all lost to my fathers smugly sung "Happy birthday."  
  
And our mother knew, aswell.  
  
*~  
  
Because, while I was whacked with my sister's mental pain, feeling, as if it were mine, I heard my mother sing the very same song, interrupted by prayers   
  
and sobs.  
  
That's when I started throwing up, until I finally passed out.  
  
Jean probably slipped that little detail.  
  
*~  
  
From that day on, father's compliments on how pretty his daughters were, had gotten a whole different meaning.  
  
Then came my twelvth birthday.  
  
I remember blowing out my candles, making a desperate wish, to get out of this house as soon as possible, when father smiled at me, and, tapping my nose,   
  
told me, I was going to grow up to be a beautiful young lady.  
  
Just like my sister.  
  
It was the first time, I ever received that certain, hungry look from a man.  
  
To say, I was terrified, would be an understatement.  
  
*~  
  
Time passsed, and my brother finally turned sixteen, only a few weeks after Cordelia became ten.  
  
I had prepared myself, for the worst, but after the initial shock, all I received from Christian was but a vast numbness.  
  
He remained in that stupor for a couple of days, and then the screaming started.  
  
Amazing was, that the screams got louder, the more pleased and relaxed he seemed to be.  
  
They stopped as sudden, as they had appeared.  
  
And then came the voices.  
  
*~  
  
I believe, Christian's trauma was the trigger, that released my powers.  
  
From that day on, there was a constant whispering in my mind, like listening to a large, invisible audience.  
  
Father had the shrinks declare me 'mentally instable', turned me in, and soon I was hapless game to the staff.  
  
I stopped eating, became anorexic, but it didn't stop them from coming to me.  
  
Finally, I escaped, I had lost my innocence, but found a way to protect myself.  
  
*~  
  
Returning home, I confronted first my elder siblings about our parents' nightly visits, but they both straight-out denied it.  
  
Then, one time while dinner, I indirectly accused my father, of what he had done.  
  
He hit me dead in my face, and I heard the cartilage bending and twisting, as the bone shattered.  
  
*~  
  
I didn't let the doctor straighten it.  
  
I wanted it to be crooked, because I didn't want to grow up, to be 'pretty' or 'beautiful'.  
  
From that day on, I refused food.  
  
If I couldn't stop my father, I could still make him deny me.  
  
By the time I was fourteen, I weighed barely a seventy-three pounds, and spent three months in a care-ward.  
  
*~  
  
Of course, the therapy was a success, and I soon was released into the save haven of my family, just in time,   
  
to have my father declaring me his heiress.  
  
From there onwards, it's history.  
  
*~  
  
She didn't look close enough, to see, to read all the signs.  
  
Sloppy, as I said.  
  
Jean used her powers, combined them with the Phoenix', and delibaretly entered my mind.  
  
She walked through my memories, self-righteously raped my conciousness, and left, without looking back.  
  
If she had, she would have realized, that my past is her future, if she keeps avoiding Scott, the way she already did.  
  
*~  
  
As I said, sloppy.  
  
And ungrateful.  
  
They are still together, but they still don't talk.  
  
*~  
  
Talking is a vital part of sexual therapy, any therapy for that matter.   
  
And, boy, do these two need therapy!  
  
Lack of communication, fear of rejection, repression, denial, lack of control.  
  
It's all there.  
  
*~  
  
They had stopped talking with each other.  
  
Despite their shared mind link, Scott couldn't tell Jean his innermost fears and desires.  
  
The mingling with Apocalypse released his suppressed desires, but he was not sure, if they really were his.  
  
And as usual, Jean was too busy dealing with the Phoenix, than to bother about something so...trivial as Scott's 'wet dreams'.  
  
*~  
  
Which they weren't.  
  
They were a long-needed wake-up call, that not everything is right in the Grey-Summers universe of love and matrimony.  
  
It's not hard to see, why these two are so perfect for each other.  
  
Jean needs a large amount of control, what with her being one of the strongest telepaths in the world, and a living avatar.  
  
And whom better to fit the role of rock in the turbulence, than Scott Summers, control-freak par excellence?  
  
*~  
  
That also explains, why he couldn't tell her.  
  
How was he supposed to take away the last substantial thing in Jean's life, when the whole world threatened to   
  
crumble down around her?   
  
One can't function properly without the other, that's their weakness.  
  
When Jean falls, so does Scott.  
  
And he's the only thing, that keeps the X-Men together, for now, at least.  
  
*~  
  
That sounds lame, I know.  
  
One might think, I actually had a social streak, when I offered Scott my help.  
  
Because I know, how much it cost him to come seek for my help, of all.  
  
But it was a smart move, I must give him that.   
  
It's the first step in solving an emotional problem:  
  
By admitting, you have a problem.  
  
*~  
  
Of course, I could have confronted Scott, but it would have only made matters worse.  
  
So, instead, I let him do, what he does best.: lead the way.  
  
*~  
  
My god, do Charles and Jean have any idea, under how much pressure he is?  
  
All those dreams, secret wishes, hopes, desires.  
  
And all he ever wanted, was someone to share them with, before they ate him alive.   
  
*~  
  
So I did.  
  
I never meant to fall in love with him, but since Jean was obviously to busy to cherish him, I thought I might..  
  
keep her seat warm.  
  
*~  
  
Of course, she thought, I wanted to steal her husband, when in real I was just pointing out the flaws in their   
  
supposed 'perfect love affair'.  
  
Even I'm not that blasé, to think I could compete with that.  
  
*~  
  
When Jean came barging into Scott and my little mental hideout, I thought, I had achieved a breakthrough.  
  
I expected her to throw a tantrum, even ruffle my mental feathers, but I had never thought, she would go as far, as to   
  
use the Phoenix' powers, to amplify hers.  
  
About as fair, as a black belt martial artist vs. a nuke.  
  
*~  
  
Instead of the expected and anticipated catfight, after witch I might have helped her with her matrimonial problems,   
  
she tied me up and pulled a bloody rowing machine through my mind.  
  
And she knew, in the deepest bottom of her heart, that she was wrong.  
  
Why else should she have locked Scott out, taking him every chance of explaining the situation?  
  
*~  
  
I am too deep involved, than to be of any help for these two, and so I have to hand this case over to someone else.  
  
I really thought, I could help, but obviously, they don't want to be helped.  
  
Fine.  
  
I let them.  
  
Even if it means, watching them turn into my parents, in reverse roles.  
  
*~  
  
...  
  
Strange.  
  
I could have sworn, someone just entered my room.  
  
Better harden up, with my mental shields shattered, it's better, not to take any chances.  
  
*~  
  
See you around, my dear diary  
  
*~  
  
  
  
Emma  
  
**************************************************************************************  
  
Tell, me, what you think, please, I wrote this in one go, because it bothered me so much. 


End file.
